


You Should've Put A Wreath Around It

by sweetbutterbliss



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Christmas, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:25:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbutterbliss/pseuds/sweetbutterbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames probably shouldn't be left alone to online shop. He gets excited and buys things on a whim, then forgets about them until they arrive and can't remember for the life of him why he bought it.  In his many different flats and hideaways he has kitchen cabinets full of random cooking gadgets, or toothpaste dispensers that have never even been opened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Should've Put A Wreath Around It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [backb4thekick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/backb4thekick/gifts).



> Beta'd by [ Heather. ](theshorteststack.tumblr.com)
> 
> This is for [ Incepship ](http://incepship.tumblr.com/) who wanted Arthur/Eames but also likes Supernatural. Hence random reference.

Eames probably shouldn't be left alone to online shop. He gets excited and buys things on a whim, then forgets about them until they arrive and can't remember for the life of him why he bought it. In his many different flats and hideaways he has kitchen cabinets full of random cooking gadgets, or toothpaste dispensers that have never even been opened. It's not like he doesn't have the money to waste though, and shopping is a quick endorphin rush when he can't be arsed to find a casino or gambling den.

This package though, this one he remembers. He runs his hands over the non-descript packaging lacking a return address. He grins to himself as he tucks it into his shoulder bag. (Let's be honest, it's a purse, a manly, dark leather purse, but nonetheless...still a purse. But Arthur had insisted he get one and it really is handy, not that he'll ever admit that to the man.)

They're on a job in London so he's actually able to use his home, and collect his own mail. It's an easy job that requires a lot of research and even more downtime. So they've all agreed to take a break for Christmas and get back to work after the New Year.

This isn't just any Christmas though, this is their first one as a couple. Really, they've been shagging for years, in hotel rooms all over the world, but six months ago, Arthur had rolled over against Eames, still sweaty and sticky and panting. He'd smiled at Eames and asked _'Hey, you want to go to my place?'_

It turned out, to Eames' surprise, he really, really did. Now, they still shag in hotels all over the world, but afterwards they come home together; whichever home is closest. Arthur, being a California native, is excited to see a 'London Christmas.' Eames suspects that Arthur has high expectations of snow, and maybe Dickens characters coming to life and wandering the streets. He hopes that Arthur won't be too disappointed. He pats his bag (purse) with another smile, and decides that at the very least, Arthur is going to enjoy himself on Christmas night.

 

***

They spend the next week decorating the flat, watching every Christmas movie they can think of and drinking obscene amounts of cocoa. Cocoa spiked with whiskey, of course. And marshmallows. Proper cocoa too, not that fiddly powdered bollocks. It's so domestic, coming home from the shop, stamping snow off his boots, and looking up to see Arthur poking his head out of the kitchen, grinning unabashedly at Eames. Eames is almost positive that he won't get tired of that. 'Point Man Arthur' rarely smiles, and when he does it's more a baring of teeth, or a I-am-amused-at-how-stupid-you-are smile. 'Boyfriend Arthur' (now isn't that a delicious word!) smiles all the time, about everything. Eames accidentally bleached a pair of Arthur's poncey trousers earlier in the week and Arthur had shrugged and laughed, then gave him a wonderful messy blowjob right there amongst the folded laundry. Now he got a hard on every time he smelled that particular laundry detergent.

He realizes that this squeezing feeling in his chest might just be actual happiness, and it throws him for a moment, because he'd always thought he was happy. Now he knows he's just been waiting for _this_ kind of happy. The kind where you kiss your tipsy-from-spiked-cocoa-and-rum-cake boyfriend, who yelps at your cold nose and then falls into fits of giggles when you press your face into his neck to warm it up.

And tonight, he's ready to make this the most memorable Christmas gift Arthur has ever received. He makes Arthur strip and then temporarily forgets what he's doing; lying down over Arthur, licking into his mouth and biting at his throat and collarbones. Arthur has lovely collarbones and Eames can't help himself. When Arthur fists his hands in Eames' hair and begins not so gently pushing his head further down, Eames goes willingly with a murmured _"greedy."_

He sucks Arthur's cock into his mouth with a loud, wet sound and holds it there, laving the underside with his tongue. Eames can feel Arthur trying desperately not to fuck up into his mouth, his back arched beautifully in one clean line, his hands pulling the sheets off the bed.

Eames pushes Arthur's hips down and pulls off with a pop. Arthur makes an angry keening noise and grabs at Eames' shirt, tugging him back down. Eames obliges with a grin, kissing Arthur's downturned mouth, letting him rut up against Eames' stomach. After a few minutes of this, when Arthur is making beautiful little panty noises into Eames' mouth, Eames pulls back and gently dislodges Arthur's fists.

"I will kill you" Arthur breathes, and Eames' dick twitches at the sight of Arthur spread across the bed, flushed, chest heaving, and making threats of bodily harm. He ducks in for one last kiss, and backs off the bed to stand.

"What the fuck, Eames?" Arthur hoists himself up onto his elbows, his cock dark red smearing pre-come across his stomach. Eames fights the urge to give in and return to the bed to lick it off.

"I just have to go and get your Christmas present, darling. I won't be two seconds." 

"Eames, I don't want a Christmas gift right now." Arthur hisses.

"But you'll love it, I promise."

"The only gift I want is your cock in my ass. That's want I want for Christmas." 

"And so you shall, Arthur. Patience is a virtue, pet."

"Fuck patience." Arthur spits out, flopping back down onto the bed with a groan. He reaches for his own cock and squeezes, letting out a sigh of temporary relief.

"Nope, none of that." Eames pulls Arthur's hand away and takes the opportunity to quickly lick at the swollen head of his cock. He's rewarded with a strangled cry from Arthur and a stream of threats and curses as he practically runs out of the room.

He slips the present on in the bathroom; maneuvering his raging hard on into the little hole takes some doing, but the effect is totally worth it. The hole is a little tight around his cock, which only has the effect of making him feel huge, and he stabs the air with it a few times in the mirror. He knows the gift is a bit cheeky, even for him, but he still thinks it's hot; his cock on full display, his foreskin pushed back a little revealing his already dripping head. Also, it's perfect as a Christmas gift. Arthur's going to love it, and then fuck himself silly on Eames' dick. Eames really is the best boyfriend ever.

***

Arthur grips the bed covers in part arousal, part fury. The longer he waits, the more it tips over into fury. He's all for teasing, when it's appropriate, but he's so hard he can't help thrusting his hips up, frustrated when he meets nothing but air. His cock looks swollen and just about as angry as he feels. If Eames isn't back in here by the time he's counted to ten, he's going to flip over and fuck the bed covers. Then make Eames sleep in the wet spot.

Just as he reaches seven, he hears the sound of footsteps approaching the bedroom. Right outside the door Eames demands that Arthur closes his eyes.

"Oh for fuck's sake. If my present isn't Jensen Ackles, naked, I'm going to cut your balls off with a dull knife and then wear them as a necklace." 

He can't help but laugh at Eames' horrified sounding "Well, that was graphic."

"Okay, eyes are closed, let's get this over with."

He hears Eames shuffle in and move to the side of the door.

"Now, you can't open until I tell you."

Arthur's growl becomes a long moan as Eames wraps his hand around Arthur's cock and gives it a few friendly strokes.

"Okay, darling. Open your eyes."

Arthur opens his eyes slowly; Eames is standing in front of him, naked, his chest puffed out and his hands on his hips, looking very pleased with himself. Wait, he isn't naked, he's wearing...something. Something green and red.

Arthur sits up slowly and blinks, trying to take in what he's seeing.

"Eames, are you wearing a Christmas wreath around your dick?" Arthur just needs the clarification, because his eyes obviously can't be trusted.

"A Christmas wreath _thong_." Eames turns to show Arthur the back, and yes, it's a thong. Arthur lets out a tiny little moan, and reaches out to scratch his nails down Eames' perfect ass, the thin red string going up between Eames' cheeks doing something unholy to Arthur. Eames turns back around and the effect is immediately gone. He actually does have a Christmas wreath around his dick. Arthur has to admit that Eames' cock jutting out like that isn't such a bad thing, but he just can't get past the wreath. He can feel the laughter bubbling up inside himself and he frantically tries to push it back down. Eames' Christmas gift is a wreath _around his dick_. He can't help it. He bursts out laughing, doubling over his pulled up knees, and laughs until he cried. 

"Eames...I can't...thank you?" He huffs out, holding his side. It takes him a moment to realize that Eames is being uncharacteristically silent. His laughter dies immediately, leaving a ringing silence. Eames is standing with his arms crossed, his eyes glassy and his mouth clamped into thin flat line. He's wiggled out of the underwear at some point, which must have been easy since his hard on is completely gone, and throws the thong at Arthur's head, stomping out theatrically.

"Damn it" Arthur mutters to himself, all traces of laughter gone. He's just ruined their very first Christmas together by being an asshole. Arthur knows he's an asshole, it's his default setting. But he tries so hard to not be an asshole to Eames, which is usually pretty easy. It's kind of hard to be mean and sour faced with Eames grinning and giddy, and sucking his cock for no reason. But now he's done it. His heart sinks a little, hoping he hasn't done permanent damage.

He sighs and pushes himself off the bed, throwing the covers over the offending underwear before he gets the giggles again. He pushes the door gently and enters the living room.

Arthur can just make Eames out by the still twinkling lights of the tree. He's sitting on the couch, still fully naked, which Arthur takes as a good sign. His arms are crossed and he's glaring at the coffee table, his cheeks blushing red. If Arthur had clothes on, he'd be twisting his fingers in his shirt, unsure of what to say to fix this. Eames is the fixer, Arthur gets angry or upset and Eames just...fixes it. Arthur has never been on this side of things. 

"Eames? I'm sorry." Arthur comes to stand in front of Eames, their knees bumping together, and he feels a bit self conscious with his bits just dangling there in Eames' face. He wishes he'd had the presence of mind to pull on some pants before he came out here.

Eames doesn't respond, just turns to look in another direction. Arthur bites his lip and thinks carefully about what to do next. He really is sorry, but saying it doesn't mean much, obviously. Arthur drops to his knees between Eames' thighs and strokes his hands up and down the inside of them. Arthur knows that sucking cock is not the healthiest way to end an argument but it's all he can think of, and it's not like Eames will mind.

Eames is still pretending to ignore him, but Arthur can tell where his focus is. He smiles to himself and leans forward to take Eames' soft dick in his mouth, rolling it around in his mouth. He kind of likes doing this when it's soft, and he can memorize the taste of all of it at once. He sucks harder and strokes Eames' balls with his fingers, tugging at them gently. Eames adjusts his legs, spreading them wider and Arthur tucks himself in closer. Eames dick is slowly filling in Arthur's mouth; he licks and sucks until he can't keep the whole thing in his mouth any more. He makes sure it's messy and wet, just how Eames likes it, the obscene slurping sound filling the living room. Eames has dropped his arms and has one hand threaded through Arthur's hair as his head falls against the back of the couch. Arthur always thrills at the quiet groans Eames makes, always so verbose normally, he becomes almost quiet during sex. Soft sighs and groans, and an occasional muttered _'Arthur.'_ Arthur always makes it a goal to get him to be louder, occasionally drawing a shout or loud gasp out of him when he comes. Arthur always considers that a job well done.

Eames is writhing a bit now, holding Arthur by the hair and fucking up into his tight mouth. Arthur uses his free hand to reach down and begin stroking his own neglected cock. He's so close to coming, but he wants to wait for Eames. It seems the closest thing to a non-verbal apology that he can think of. Eames tugs at Arthur's hair and pushes up one last time, coming hot and full down Arthur's throat with a loud moan. It makes Arthur's eyes water, and he gagged a little, but the familiar taste causes him to come too, splattering onto the front of the couch. 

Arthur kneels on the floor, panting and swallowing, until Eames gathers him up and pulls him into his lap. Eames turns Arthur's face forward with both hands and licks at Arthur's chin.

"You missed some, darling." Eames voice is deep and rough, still hazy with pleasure.

"Eames, I really am sorry. I thought it was meant to be a joke." He buries his sticky face in Eames' neck.

He feels Eames shrug awkwardly. "It partly was. I've just never had anyone laugh so hard at the sight of me naked and ready. It just...hurt my feelings a bit."

"I'm sorry. I _love_ you naked and ready. It was just a surprise. "

He pulls back to look at Eames' face.

"For the record I like you all the way naked. No weird underwear."

Eames laughs. "Alright darling, next Christmas will be something boring and Arthurish. A lifetime supply of Moleskines and folder dividers."

Arthur remains quiet, letting that sink in.

"So you want there to be a _next_ Christmas?"

Eames tightens his arms around Arthur and kisses him hard and brief.

"You're such an idiot, my Arthur. I want to spend every Christmas, Boxing Day, Fourth of July...even Thanksgiving with you. Every single one for the rest of my life."

"Arbor day?" Arthur asks with a smile.

"No, not that one. You're on your own. I hate trees."

Arthur laughs and rests his head on Eames' shoulder, threading their hands together.

"Merry Christmas, Eames."

"Happy Christmas, darling."

**Author's Note:**

> [ This ](http://www.abcunderwear.com/wreath-mens-gstring-3051.html) is the underwear Heather and I found...while doing research. Obviously.


End file.
